they value so little
much of life
that they kill or die
without a wince;
yet they weep so easily,
oh how they cry!
when desert flowers fall
or when the moon
is shadowed by the clouds!
no self-proclaimed right,
no creed, no aspiration,
no vision of paradise,
no prophet, no god,
can be just cause
for why they fight!
their hate an evil gesture,
their names befit the vilest roster,
their faces but utter outrage
in a gallery of flame!
now in remembrance
we are gathered here today,
this memorial for those who died;
here we stand firmly resolved
with anger not born of hate
but of love for the gift of breath,
for we value so much more,
so much much more,
what little we have in life!
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